Resisting Samantha (Hope Parish Novels Book 10) (14 page)

My dick was so hard
for her, had been for days. Ever since that beach trip, I’d
been unable to get rid of the urge to bury myself so deep into her I
would lose myself. I wanted her with a desperation I’d never
felt before. But I didn’t want our first time to be about pain,
about loss. I wanted it to be about beginnings, moving on, making a
commitment. I wanted her to want me. Just want me.

“Not like
this, Sam.” I tried to breathe around my arousal, the need to
take her now pulsating hard in my groin.

She looked up at me,
devastating pain in her eyes. There was no way I would take advantage
of her vulnerability, no matter how much I wanted her physically. She
was much too precious to me for me to ignore that she was beyond
decision-making and rational thought.

“Let me help
you get undressed, and we’ll get you warmed up, dried off, and
into some clothes. Then we’ll talk.”

She covered her face
with her hands and broke down, sobbing, her chest heaving. I stripped
off everything but my underwear, then started working on her clothes.
When I couldn’t take her grief any longer, I pulled her against
me and her arms went around my neck. The feel of her nakedness was
almost more than I could bear, but for this beautiful woman I could
bear just about anything.

I rocked her
slightly and soothed her, “It’ll be all right, babe.
Trust me.”

She buried her face
in my neck and I picked her up and headed for my shower, which was a
walk-in with numerous jets. In the steamy spray, I continued to hold
her. It seemed like an eternity before she cried herself out, her
harsh sobs dwindling to the occasional ragged breath. She let me go,
and pressed her hands against the tiles while I soaped her up, making
quick work of it, then washed her long hair. I did my own quick wash
and rinse as well.

Turning off the
water, I led her out and dried her off. Wrapping her in a fresh, dry
towel, I carried her into my room and set her down on the bed before
fetching her bag from the foyer.

Back inside the
room, she tracked my movement across the bedroom.

I knelt down in
front of her, and she reached out and undid what little defense I had
left, flimsy as it was, by tracing her fingertips over my face. My
forehead, my cheeks. When she touched my lips, staring steadily into
my eyes, I pressed my face to her chest and she wrapped her arms
around me as easily as she’d wrapped me around her little
finger.

Resisting Samantha
had been futile.

I looked up. “How
are you doing?”

“Better,”
she said, her voice husky and liquid.

“Let’s
get you dressed.”

She nodded. “You
are such a good man.”

“Yeah. And for
the record, I deserve a medal.”

That got me a watery
laugh. “And so darn humble.”

I pulled out the
clothes she had in there, a tank top and a pair of black stretchy
pants. As soon as she was dressed, I pulled a sweatshirt out of my
dresser and slipped it over her head. She was swallowed up in it. I
folded back the sleeves as she ran her hands through my hair with a
debilitating look of tenderness in her eyes, her face soft. “Thank
you,” she said, while she extracted a comb from her duffel and
dragged it through her hair, braided it, and wrapped an elastic
around the end.

After all that was
accomplished, I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a thermal shirt.
Back in the bathroom, I quickly stripped off my shorts and dressed. I
checked the medicine cabinet for condoms just to be safe. Thank God I
had a box. If she went at me again, I wasn’t sure I could hold
out.

I hustled her out of
the bedroom—the danger zone—and out to the kitchen. The
rain was still coming down, the sky darkened to a leaden, slate gray.
A foggy, blurry sheet like an impenetrable curtain sat on the bayou.

“Coffee?
Food?”

“You do the
coffee. I’ll do the food.”

She came around and
I grabbed her upper arm. “I can cook, you know.”

She nodded. “I’m
sure, but I need to keep my hands busy.”

I let her go, and
she opened my fridge. Forty-five minutes later, after polishing off
the spaghetti and garlic bread she made, we took our coffee to the
couch.

“Tell me what
happened.”

She explained
everything, and I agreed with her concerns, worried as hell, not only
about the movement of the sign, the rearrangement of the tables, and
the missing flour, but about the very real possibility that Kyle
Mayhew was stalking Samantha. It would be understandable that in his
twisted, sick mind, she deserved punishment for killing her brother.
Well, he was going to have to go through me first.

“You’re
not sure it was him.”

“No, I
couldn’t get a good look, but my gut says it was.”

“But you’re
relatively sure he’s in prison, right?”

“I can’t
imagine how he could have been released. He shot a cop, resisted
arrest, attacked me and broke two ribs—oh, damn.”

“He what?”

I cupped her face.
It was hard to handle the idea that Sam had been in that much danger.
“It was my job, Chase. I couldn’t let him get away, but
he did anyway.”

“You were a
badass, huh?”

“I told you. I
know how to use a baton in all the tender places.”

By this time, it was
late. “Let’s go to bed.” I walked with her into my
room. “You can stay here and I’ll—”

She caught at my
T-shirt. “No, please, Chase. Stay with me.” I caught her
by the upper arms, pulling her against me.

“Okay,”
I murmured gruffly.

Pressing her head to
my shoulder, I gathered her up in a tight embrace, my fingers tangled
in her hair. Shifting so she was flat against me, I closed my eyes,
the rush of sensation so intense, I had to grit my teeth against it.
My rock-hard dick hadn’t softened much, and all it took was
having her against me to bring me back to life.

She moved, sending a
shock wave of heat through me, and I clutched her head, the feel of
her almost too much to handle.

My fingers snagging
in her hair, I tucked my head against hers, forcing myself to remain
immobile. Every muscle in my body demanded that I move, and my nerve
endings felt as if they were stripped raw, but I tried to ignore the
feelings pounding through me. She had no idea what she was doing to
me.

It took me a while,
but I finally got myself under control, could finally breathe without
it nearly killing me. Releasing a shaky sigh, I adjusted my hold on
her, drawing her deeper into my embrace. I had never seen her fall
apart like this, as if there was so much pain built up it finally
busted free on its own. The thought of her all alone, going through
something like this all by herself, sobered me like little else had,
and I pressed her head against me.

With the fullness in
my chest expanding, I just held her. She was so damn vulnerable. And
I wasn’t sure how I was going to get us out of this without it
becoming a complete wreck. I was so close to the edge that it
wouldn’t take a whole hell of a lot to push me over. And she
felt so good, and smelled so good, and damn, I wanted to feel her
flush against me, skin to skin.

Unable to control
the urge, I widened my stance a little, pressing her against the hard
ridge of flesh, turning my face against her neck and gritting my
teeth. I hoped she was so far out of it that she wouldn’t
notice the state I was in.

I promised her slow,
and by God she’d get slow.

But she was well
aware of my state. She went still in my arms, then she made a low,
needy sound and twisted her head, her mouth suddenly urgent against
mine. The bolt of pure, raw sensation knocked the wind right out of
me. I shuddered, and widened my mouth against hers, feeding on the
need that shifted back and forth between us. She made another wild
sound and clutched at me, the movement welding our bodies together
like two halves of a whole, and I nearly lost it right then. But the
taste of tears cut through my senses, and I dragged my mouth away
from hers, my heart pounding like a jackhammer.

Dammit, I was an
asshole. She was an emotional wreck, and she didn’t know what
she was doing—she was just reacting, reaching for comfort. And
it was dangerous. There was too much I wanted, and I still wasn’t
sure how much she could give. And how could I give her a future when
I hadn’t dealt with my past?

Trying to regain
some control, I held her tighter. Inhaling jaggedly, I nestled her
head closer, turning my face against hers. “Easy,” I
whispered against her hair. “Easy, darlin’. We’re
okay.”

“We are,”
she whispered. “I want you, Chase. So much.” Her arms
locked around me, she choked out my name; then she moved against me,
silently pleading, pleading with her body—and any connection I
had with reason shattered into a thousand pieces.

The feel of her heat
against me was too much, and I gritted my teeth, my entire body
clenching with the surge of desire. I caught her around the hips,
welding her against me. God, I needed this—the heat of her, the
weight of her. I needed her.

Sam made another low
sound, then she inhaled raggedly and pulled herself up against my
arousal, her voice breaking on a low sob of relief. “Chase.
Don’t say no. Please. I know what I want.”

She moved against me
again, and I tightened my hold even more, unable to stop as I
involuntarily responded. Suddenly there was no turning back.

Shifting her head, I
covered her mouth with a deep, scorching kiss, and she opened to me,
her mouth moving against mine with urgent hunger. It was too much—and
not nearly enough, and I lifted her higher and caught her behind the
knee, dragging her leg around my hip. One twist and my dick was flush
against her core. Grasping her buttocks, I thrust against her again
and again, a low groan wrenched from me as she moved with me, riding
me, riding the thick ridge jammed against her. But that wasn’t
enough, either. I nearly went ballistic, certain I would explode if I
didn’t get inside her.

Making incoherent
sounds against my mouth, Sam twisted free, and a violent shudder
coursed through me when I felt her hand slip between cotton and my
burning skin. The instant she touched my throbbing erection, I
groaned out her name and let go of her, frantic to rid us both of the
barrier of clothes.

“Condom,”
I croaked.

“No need.
Pill,” she gasped out.

Somehow I got her
pants off, and somehow I got her shirt over her head, but the instant
she stroked me, I lost it completely. I held her close as I pivoted
and dropped onto the bed, with her beneath me. On the verge of
release, I dragged her legs around my hips, gazing into her eyes
while I thrust into her, unable to hold back one second longer. The
feel of her closing around me, tight and wet, drove the air right out
of my lungs, the sensation so intense, I couldn’t move.

Sam sobbed out my
name and locked her legs around me, her movements urging me on, and I
crushed her against me, white-hot desire rolling over me. Angling my
arms across her back, I drove into her again and again, pressure
building and building. A low, guttural sound tore from me, and I
pulsated forcefully, coming deep inside her in a blinding rush that
went on and on, so powerful I felt turned inside out. I wanted to let
it roll over me, to take me under, but I forced myself to keep moving
in her, knowing she was on the very edge. She cried out and clutched
at my back, then went rigid in my arms while she finally convulsed
around me, the gripping spasms wringing me dry.

My heart hammering,
my breathing so labored I felt almost dizzy, I weakly rested my head
against hers, my whole body quivering. I felt like I’d been
wrenched in two and hammered back together in a blacksmith’s
forge.

Hauling in an
unstable breath, I kissed her on the neck, a feeling of overwhelming
protectiveness rising up in me.

I needed to get us
under the covers, but I couldn’t let go of her yet. I had to
wait for the knot of emotion to ease. With slow deliberation, I
smoothed my hand up her back. “Hang on for a minute,” I
whispered hoarsely.

She nodded once and
tightened her arms and legs around me. I withdrew my arms from around
her back, gritting my teeth when she pressed her full breasts against
my chest while I rolled and settled her on top of me, shuddering as
she took me deeper inside her.

Swamped with a rush
of emotion, I nestled her tighter against me and closed my eyes,
slipping my hand over the fullness of her breast, rubbing her taut
nipple with my thumb. She gasped and rose a bit, just enough for me
to get my mouth on her, sucking hard while she pushed her hips
against my groin.

She tasted like
heaven, sweet and redolent of woman, and my tongue thirsted for more.

I looked up at her
sweet face, and my throat closed up when she opened her eyes,
swallowing hard, clearly struggling with her own raw emotions.

I covered her mouth
with a soft, searching kiss, hands roaming over her curves. “Give
it to me,” I demanded, feeling raw.

Her breath caught,
but she yielded to the pressure of my thumb, and I adjusted the
alignment of my mouth against hers, deepening the kiss with slow,
lazy thoroughness. Working my mouth softly, slowly, against hers, I
drank from her, probing the moist recesses, savoring her taste. Her
breath caught again; then she finally responded, and I grasped the
back of her head, her hair tangling like silk around my fingers. My
chest tightening, I cupped her breast again, pinching her nipple, and
the rigid tension was back.

She raked my stomach
all the way down to the base of my shaft, sparking an electrifying
weakness which radiated through my lower body. She did it again, and
I groaned, my hips moving. I tightened my hold on her hair, feeling
my dick harden inside her.